Star Wars: Vergence III, Chapter Ten

 CHAPTER TEN

The Millennium Falcon, Naboo

As the Kintan Strider fell with an agonized cry, the mighty Chewbacca leaned back in his seat and basked in the glory of his victory.

Sitting across from the triumphant Wookiee, Finn stared forlornly at the static dejarik pieces on the hologame table, wondering if he had made a wrong move or if the game had been rigged somehow. Growing up in the humanocentric First Order, he had been conditioned to think of beings like Chewbacca to be little more than mindless beasts incapable of operating a hologame table, much less win a game of dejarik. Since deserting however, he had been introduced to a larger galaxy than the one he had been accustomed to and realized that non-human sentients were not as mindless or unintelligent as he had been led to believe.

Still, though, he thought for sure he would have been able to at least one game out of the dozen he had played so far against Chewbacca…. 

No doubt seeing Finn’s expression from where he sat at the Falcon’s engineering station, Han Solo said, “Trust me, kid. You don’t wanna win when playing with a Wookiee.”

“Why is that?” Finn asked.

“Best case scenario, he’ll accuse you of cheating and hold a grudge against you for the rest of your waking life. Worst case scenario… well, I don’t think you want to find that out.”

Finn frowned as he glanced back at the gloating Chewbacca. With a sigh, he turned away from the game to face Han again. “How long has it been?”

Han glanced at a chronometer. “About two hours.” 

“The wedding’s probably already started then. How much longer do you think we have to wait?”

Han shrugged. “However long it will take her to talk with her cousins. Could be a few minutes, could be several hours. Depends what mood they’re in today.”

“Have you met them before?”

“Only once. It was a long time ago, though. And I don’t think they liked me much.”

“Because you’re a smuggler?”

Han’s face twisted in annoyance but before he could retort, there was a loud crash coming from the direction of the Falcon’s front cargo hold. A few seconds later, a mangled training remote droid rolled into the main hold as an irate Rey stormed after it, followed closely by Toah Jarsan.

“Okay,” muttered the older Jedi. “Maybe we should phase out the training remotes.”

“Hey, if you want to trash your Jedi toys, be my guest,” Han said. “But find your own ship to do it on, all right? I don’t need Jedi throwing tantrums.”

Rey said nothing as she stormed past them and headed for the boarding ramp. Finn started to rise from his seat but Toah raised a placating hand to stop him.

“Let her go,” he said. “She probably just needs some fresh air. Not everyone can withstand being cooped up in a ship for hours at a time.”

“That’s still no excuse for trashing my ship,” Han commented, eying the broken training remote. 

Chewbacca made a sound and the Corellian pilot shot him a look. 

“When I do it, it’s okay. Because it’s my ship, right?”

The Wookiee snorted in dissent.

“That doesn’t count! That ship wasn’t even his!”

Finn sighed as he sank back into his seat. Thinking about, the idea of getting some fresh did not sound like a bad one after all….

*  *  *

“…And with the power vested in me, I hereby declare you bound in marital union.”

As the Pontifex finished speaking, the room erupted in applause, although it did not sound genuine to Leia’s ears. Her side of the aisle was perhaps the most enthused, with her cousin Ryoo clapping and audibly bawling her eyes out. Ryoo’s younger sister Pooja also joined in the applause, albeit more out of courtesy than genuine joy, something which she signaled to Leia with a covert glance. The Serennian nobles opposite of them seemed to share in Pooja’s lack of enthusiasm, politely clapping while exchanging uncertain glances with each other. Leia wondered if this had to do with the Serennians’ disapproval of one of their own marrying into a family that was not of Serenno, or if there was perhaps a different underlying reason. As Senator Darius Naberrie and Lady Valera Teramo began to walk down the aisle, arm-in-arm, Leia closed her eyes and reached out with the Force, trying to see if there was anything she could unearth.

A hand falling on her shoulder broke her concentration and she turned around to see a young woman with white face paint beaming at her.

“Princess Organa! I must say, it is quite an honor to finally meet you.”

Leia smiled politely as she bowed to the young Queen of Naboo. “The honor is mine, Your Highness.”

Queen Reneme waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, please. You’re the one who’s helped save the galaxy multiple times. I didn’t even exist yet during half of your accomplishments.”

“Even so, leading an entire people is no easy task, especially for someone your age.”

Reneme smiled, though it did not quite reach her eyes. “Perhaps,” she said softly. “Anyway, there is someone I would like you to meet once we are at the reception. You are attending that, yes?”

Before Leia could answer, a blaster shot rang out followed by a woman’s scream.

*  *  *

Rey pushed her way through the crowd of brightly clothed humans and Gungans, her eyes set on the Temple of Shiraya which they were gathered around. Leia had told her and the rest of the team to stay behind on the Millennium Falcon while she attended this wedding, but Rey needed to get away from the ship. Besides, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about this entire operation. It was supposed to be a simple rendezvous with one of Leia’s relatives in the hopes of getting more information on certain people of interest working with the Galactic Alliance; yet, something about it had put a voice in Rey’s head that told her things were about to take a turn for the worse. It was a voice that had started speaking ever since they had arrived on Naboo and had been what caused her to lose her temper while training with Toah.

She supposed she could have told Toah about her concerns regarding the mission… but would he have listened to her? If he did not sense the same things she was sensing, would he have simply dismissed her concerns? After all, she was just a Padawan learner while he was a Jedi Master; not only that, but a Jedi who had been trained by Luke Skywalker himself. If he didn’t sense any danger, then surely there wasn’t any, right?

Rey frowned to herself as she slowed down in her approach of the temple. Why was she even thinking these things?

Up ahead, she had a clear view of the Temple of Shiraya. Descending from the front steps to the applause of the crowd were two attractive, well-dressed individuals. Upon seeing the newlywed couple, Rey let out a sigh as she allowed herself to relax. Apparently she had gotten herself worked up over nothing; if the wedding was already over, then Leia was most likely safe and they would be leaving Naboo soon.

Too late, she felt the Force prick her mind as a bolt of plasma lanced out from somewhere up high and struck Senator Darius Naberrie directly in the shoulder. A chorus of gasps broke out from the crowd as Lady Valera Teramo released an ear-piercing scream. Two security officers rushed to the senator’s side while another two bolted towards the building where the blast had originated from.

Before she even realized it, Rey’s legs were carrying her all on their own and she got to the door well before either of the officers could. She zipped past them and began to fly up the stairs….

*  *  *

“Kark it, kark it, kark it!”

Remar’s cursing was mostly drowned out by Sharbrook’s howls of fury. Casting his rifle aside, Remar made for the door only for his Wookiee partner to grab him by the shoulders and shove him up into the wall, roaring furiously at him.

“I didn’t miss on purpose!” Remar protested as he struggled against Sharbrook’s firm grip. “I had the shot perfectly lined up! Something caused me to miss! I don’t know what—”

Unsatisfied with Remar’s excuses, Sharbrook threw him down to the floor with a snarl. As the Wookiee started to head for the door, Remar heard a loud commotion coming from outside the building, including what sounded like booted footsteps marching into the building. Sharbrook was already out of the room by the time Remar had found his footing, and as soon as he stepped out, he could hear the Naboo guards making their way up the stairs.

This is it, he thought. This is how I die.

Suddenly, a human-shaped blur dashed from out of the stairwell up ahead and charged towards him, pushing him back into the room and up against the same wall Sharbrook had been holding him against. He felt a heat against his neck as the dark-haired woman assailing him raised a blue blade of energy inches from his face.

“Why did you do it?” The words came out of her as a near-snarl, not unlike those that Sharbrook had just uttered.

Remar gawked back at this woman, not knowing if she was a Jedi or something else. While he had never encountered a Jedi before, he did not think for a second that this was normal behavior for them; not if all of the things he had heard about them were true. Looking into her hazel eyes, which had a hint of gold in them, he started to wonder if what he was facing was even human.

“Why did you do it?” she repeated, bringing the blade closer to his neck.

Remar swallowed hard. “I didn’t… I wasn’t aiming for him.” He knew that this did not help his case at all, especially when the woman’s eyes took on an even more golden tint.

“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” she said darkly.

“Look, lady,” Remar managed to croak out. “I don’t know who you are or what your relation with that guy is, but I swear to you that this is all a—”

“Nobody move!” Bursting into the room were a pair of Naboo security officers. Both of them had their blaster pistols drawn and pointed at both Remar and the woman.

“Let him go,” one of the officers said to the woman. “We’ll take him in for questioning.”

For a moment that seemed to drag on forever, the woman did not move, keeping one hand firmly pinned on Remar’s shoulder while keeping the lightsaber raised at his neck. Then, the golden tint to her eyes slowly faded away and she released him, stepping away but keeping her weapon drawn. The two officers then quickly moved in to restrain Remar, placing a pair of binders around his wrists.

“Is it just you or did you have an accomplice?” one of them asked Remar.

Before Remar could answer, there was a loud growl as Sharbrook charged back into the room, his massive furry arms raised high. The Wookiee proceeded to lunge at the two Naboo officers and Remar thought for sure the two would be goners.

Then there was a flurry of blue light and before he knew it, Sharbrook was lying on the floor, howling in pain with both of his arms beside him. Neither of them were attached to his shoulders.

As Remar gawked at the horrific state his partner was in, one of the officers reached for their comlink and slowly raised it to his mouth. “Escort One to Command. We’re, uh… we’re going to need some help here.”

Star Wars: Vergence III, Chapter Nine

 CHAPTER NINE

Amaxine Station—Twenty-one years ago

“Do you like this place, Ben?”

The young boy couldn’t help but blink in confusion as he looked up at the tall man standing next to him. Snoke had his hands sheathed in the large sleeves of his green robes, looking serene as they walked through his garden of bizarre exotic plants. Anyone else probably would have felt uncomfortable or even disgusted around these plants. But Ben had known this place for so long, nearly all his life, that he was used to them by now.

“It’s… interesting,” he said quietly, glancing at a dead-looking plant with long, thorned tendrils. “It’s home.”

“Home.” Snoke repeated the word, sounding as if he had never contemplated the prospect. “I’m not sure anyone has considered this place home before you. It’s had a rather dark and twisted history.”

“How so?” Ben asked.

Snoke was quiet for a moment, as if he was considering whether or not to elaborate. Finally, he said, “This station was created by a culture of warriors known as the Amaxine, for whom it is named. It was abandoned when they were driven to extinction by the Drengir.”

“The Drengir?”

“Frightening creatures that terrorized the galaxy over two centuries ago,” Snoke explained. “They were the thing of nightmares, terrifying even the Sith to the point that they forcibly confined the Drengir to this very station.”

Ben’s eyes went wide and he looked around the garden with a look of unease. “Are they still here?”

Snoke chuckled softly. “No, my boy. They are a thing of the past now. Echoes of them remain on this station if you know where to look, but they are nothing more than that. Just echoes.”

They continued to walk through the garden in silence until Snoke extended a hand and rested it on Ben’s shoulder.

“The reason I’m asking this, boy, is because I’m afraid that your time here must come to an end.”

Ben looked up at him with wide eyes. “What? Why?”

“I have taught you all that I can. You are a very talented young boy; more talented than any of my previous students. But my knowledge and expertise can only extend so far. You need a teacher who can help you realize your true potential.”

Ben frowned, unsure how to feel about this prospect. “Who’s going to teach me then? I don’t know anyone else besides you.”

Snoke smiled. “You need not worry about that; I have already found someone who can teach what I never could.”

Ben took a deep breath and exhaled. He did not want to leave Amaxine Station; this was his home after all. But he trusted Snoke, and Snoke knew what was best for him. He would do whatever his teacher asked of him.

“Where will I be going then?” he asked.

“I have arranged for a transport to stop by and retrieve you,” Snoke replied. “It will take you to the planet Varnak, where you will find a man called Ren. When you do find him, tell him that I sent you. Your life will then be in his hands.”

Ben looked up at Snoke, his dark eyes meeting his teacher’s blue ones. “Will I ever see you again?”

Snoke offered him a warm, fatherly smile. “What does your heart tell you?”

Mustafar—Now

Kylo Ren woke from the memory, breathing heavily as he knelt on the ground. Surrounding him were the abandoned ruins of Fortress Vader, its obsidian walls having collapsed after decades of abandonment, giving him a full view of Mustafar’s volcanic plains. 

As he struggled onto his feet, Kylo heard what sounded like breathing coming from behind him. However, when he looked over his shoulder, he saw nothing but shadows behind him. The breathing continued unabated for a few moments until it was joined by a booming voice that Kylo was intimately familiar with.

“Welcome, my grandson. Welcome to my birthplace.”

Kylo Ren felt his breath hitch. “Grandfather?” It was a struggle to even get the word out.

“You have come a long way.” The voice of Darth Vader shook the fragile walls of the fortress and yet the shadows themselves remained undisturbed. “Every choice you have made has led you to this moment.”

Kylo started to step towards the shadows, barely even thinking about it. It was like some string was tied around his feet, pulling him in.

“Come to me, grandson. Fulfill your destiny.”

“No.”

A bright light flashed before Kylo Ren’s eyes and he stumbled back onto his knees, landing face-first onto the ground. His mind spiraled away and he soon found himself falling back into a field of memories.

Then

“Bored now. Can we leave already?”

“The concept of patience is a foreign one to you, isn’t it, Trudgen?” The man known simply as Ren calmly drank from his bottle of port-in-a-storm. It was another quiet night at the cantina. It always was when the Knights of Ren were in town; no one wanted to get on their bad side, and the best way to avoid that was to lay low and keep quiet. No one made a fuss and no one got hurt. It was a simple formula, and Ren liked simple formulas.

“Besides,” he said as he set the bottle down, “we’re still waiting on someone.”

“You still haven’t told us who this ‘someone’ is,” said Cardo, tinkering with his arm-mounted blaster cannon. “Is it someone important?”

“Potentially,” Ren replied. “It depends on how our meeting with them goes.”

“Well, it looks like we don’t have to wait any longer,” said Vicrul. 

Ren glanced at him and the other Knight nodded in the direction of a young, dark-haired boy that had just walked in. The boy looked no older than sixteen and probably wasn’t even old enough to set foot in a cantina, let alone drink at one. Were it anyone else, he would have been roughed up and thrown back out onto the streets like all the other rapscallions. But this wasn’t just anyone else; Ren knew that much about the boy.

“Over here, kid,” he called out to the youth. The boy looked in the direction of him and the Knights and his eyes narrowed in uncertainty. There was no trace of fear though, not yet at least. That was good, Ren thought. It was a start.

Wading his way through the cantina, the boy approached the Knights at their table and said, “I’m looking for someone named Ren.”

“You’ve found him,” Ren replied.

“Snoke sent me—”

“I know Snoke sent you. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” muttered Trudgen. “This is who we’ve been waiting for? Just some kid?”

The boy glared at him, his hands rolling into fists. “I’m not a kid. I’m—”

Ren raised a placating hand. “Relax. Trudgen’s just egging you on. We’re all a bit restless. One too many drinks, yeah?”

The boy returned his attention to Ren and seemed to study him. While the other Knights were clad head to toe in full black armor, Ren left his face and heavily burnt chest exposed, his own mask resting on the table next to his drink. It was a handy tactic against enemies, luring them into thinking that he was vulnerable and that they could hurt him. Those who thought that often ended up never thinking again.

If the boy was thinking any of those things, he did not show any indication. Instead, he looked Ren in the eyes, brown meeting blue.

“Will you teach me?” he asked.

Ren smirked at him. “I’d say that choice has already been made for us, wouldn’t you?”

“When do I start?”

Ren reached for his mask and picked it up from the table. The mask was all silver and featureless save for the red markings that distinguished it. He then stood up as he slid the helmet over his head.

“You already have.” 

Now

“Ben. Get up.”

Kylo Ren groaned as he came back once more to reality. He felt himself being cast beneath a blue glow, though it hurt too much for him to get up and see what the source of the glow even was. All he knew was that he felt cold.

“Take off that mask. It’s weighing you down.”

Kylo’s hands instinctively went for the mask but the voice of Darth Vader stopped him.

“That mask is what makes you,” the long-departed Lord of the Sith intoned. “It defines who you are.”  

Then

“Why do I need a mask?”

The hairy creature made a disgruntled sound as it pulled the freshly made mask from out if its forge, slamming it down on the table in front of Ben.

“If you want to be a Knight, you have to wear a mask,” snapped Ushar, steam emitting from the breathing tubes of his own mask. “You think we wear these for the hell of it?”

Ben frowned. “But why, though? What’s the point of it?”

“There doesn’t need to be a point to it, kid,” Ren said, slapping Ben on the shoulder. “It’s just part of our identity; part of what makes us who we are. Besides, people respect you more when you wear a mask.”

“And fear you,” added Kuruk.

Ren chuckled. “The two aren’t much different, my friend.”

Ben continued to stare at the mask, studying the silver inlays surrounding the thin black visor. He could feel the others’ eyes on him, even through their masks, and so he picked it up from the table and raised it over his head.

Now

With a click and hiss, Kylo unlocked the seal of his mask and pulled it off his head, letting it clatter to the floor. He lifted his head up, pushing strands of dark hair out of his eyes, and stared at the blue spectre standing in front of him.

“Hey,” it said to him with a friendly smile. “You’ve got good genes. I wouldn’t hide them behind a mask.” 

Kylo blinked rapidly, unable to tell if he was hallucinating or not. “Who… who are you?”

“I’m the guy that other voice is claiming to be. I am your grandfather.”

“Do not listen to him,” the voice of Darth Vader boomed. “He is an illusion borne from the fumes of this planet. He is preventing you from achieving your destiny.”

“Other way around, I think,” the ghost of Anakin Skywalker countered. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to deal with a lava-induced illusion of myself. Strange sentence, I know.”

Kylo Ren ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What is happening? Is this my test?”

“Turn around, Ben,” Anakin Skywalker said. “Just turn around and leave this planet. Get off this path that your master has put you on. You will only find regret and despair. Believe me; I would know.”

“Those are the words of weakness,” Darth Vader retorted. “Words of an insolent Jedi.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face the shadows behind him. “Ben,” he said quietly. “You should leave. Now.”

“No.” Kylo fumbled for his lightsaber. “You’re an illusion. A trick. My grandfather will show me the dark side, as he always has.”

“Ben… I turned my back on the dark side in my final moments. You would know that, had your family raised you.”

“My….” Kylo felt his heart drum against his chest. “My family abandoned me.”

“No. They lost you. They searched for you, but the ones who took you did everything they could to hide you from them. Even from me.” Anakin looked over his shoulder to look at his grandson, his eyes tired and sad. “It’s not too late, Ben,” he said softly. “It’s not too late to go back to them.”

“It is far too late,” Darth Vader hissed. “They will shun him for the monster he is.”

Anakin shook his head. “No. They won’t. My son never gave up on me. And my daughter would never give up on her own son. Not a single day goes by without her thinking about you, Ben.”

Kylo Ren swallowed hard, his eyes stinging from the water forming in them.

Then

Lightning crackled all around him, obstructing his vision, although he could still hear their voices.

“Go! I can only hold him off for so long!”

“We’re not leaving him!”

“You have no choice! If you stay here, you’ll all die!”

“If he dies, so do we.”

The words of his mother rang the loudest. Even after they had gone, after the storm had stopped and Starkiller laid dead at his feet, he could still hear them.

I love you, she had said.

He picked up his discarded mask from the floor and placed it back over his face.

I know, he had answered.

Only the Force knew if she had heard him.

Now

“She’s on Naboo.”

“What?” Kylo croaked out his, his voice choked with emotion.

“She’s on Naboo,” Anakin Skywalker calmly repeated. “You will find her in the city of Theed.”

Kylo wasn’t sure what to make of this information. He waited for the voice of Vader to respond, but the Dark Lord had suddenly fallen silent.

After a long, pressing moment, he slowly got up from the ground and back onto his feet. It was easier this time, as if a weight had been lifted off him, although he could not explain why. He gave one last look to the specter of Anakin Skywalker before turning around and walking away; away from the ghost and away from the shadows. He retraced his steps through the fortress of Darth Vader and soon found his way back onto the scorching plains of Mustafar.

It was not until he was well away from the fortress and on his way back to his ship that he realized he had left his mask behind.

Star Wars: Vergence III, Chapter Eight

 CHAPTER EIGHT

If Dax Goldam had to describe his life in one word, it would have been: complicated.

Even before his father’s death, things had never exactly been “easy.” For as long as he could remember, it had always just been him and Dad; his mother had never been part of the picture and his only memento of her was a golden chestplate with a mysterious symbol painted on it. When pressed, his father had always refused to elaborate on its meaning, and after his father was killed, Dax decided to don the armor himself as he set out on a path to avenge his father.

After receiving some training from an old friend of his father’s, Dax had been able to make enough money to buy himself a ship and a crew. Each one of his crewmates checked off a box that made for, in his mind, a perfect crew: a killer droid in 791; a fearsome Wookiee in Redclaw; and a fiery woman in Alyson. At the time, he didn’t think he could ever ask for a better crew… until they ditched him on Desevro after that fiasco on Lianna six years ago. He had had his chance to take out both of his father’s killers—Baron Salvan Tai and the rogue Mandalorian Kadar—and it had been snatched away from him. Everything he had spent the last five years of his life working towards had just gone in the blink of an eye.

Without a ship, without a crew, he had found himself wandering from planet to planet, crew to crew. He had thought he had finally found something a bit more permanent with Remar and Sharbrook, but that had also been taken away from him. All he had now was this mysterious woman and the vague promise of finally accomplishing of what he had failed to do back on Lianna six years ago.

To kill Kadar.

He had no idea what kind of life would be waiting for him after he had killed his father’s murderer. Perhaps this woman and her benefactors would give him a large enough reward that he could retire and never pick up a blaster again. Or maybe they would just ditch him as others had ditched him before and he would be forced to fend for himself as he always had, with his only comfort being that he had finally avenged his father.

Given how complicated his life had been up until this point, Dax could easily see things going either way for him.

The trip from Phaeda to wherever this woman was taking him had lasted several hours, perhaps even days, and Dax had largely spent that time sitting in the co-pilot seat in complete silence. The armored woman controlling the ship had not tried to strike up conversation, keeping quiet herself until she brought the ship out of hyperspace after their last jump and brought them into view of a frigid mountainous world.

“Here we are,” the woman said.

Dax furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the approaching planet. “Kijimi? Why are we here?”

“You were expecting someplace else?”

“No, I was just… I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not exactly that notable, even among the circles I frequent.”

“There are a lot more circles than just the ones you frequent,” the woman replied. “Go into the main hold; you’ll find some weather-resistant clothes to wear.”

Dax saw no point in arguing and proceeded to do as instructed. By the time he had put on the heavy coat that had been laid out for him, the ship had already touched down and the two of them were soon venturing out into the cold climate of Kijimi. 

Built atop one of the planet’s many mountains, Kijimi City was home to a variety of smugglers and spice runners that had made the planet their home. While it was hardly the safest place in the galaxy, Kijimi was also one of the few where their trade of work was accepted and they did not need to worry about repercussions from the Galactic Alliance. The only authority that they needed to worry about was that of whoever was running the city at the time, which tended to change every few years or so. The last time Dax had been to Kijimi, the city was ruled only by the anarchy of self-interested criminals living there. Who knew what could have changed in the seven years that had passed since then.

As he and his companion made their way through the shabby town, Dax could feel the eyes of many following them with every step they took. He knew better than to look over his shoulder so as to not give away his paranoia, though it did not make him feel any less uneasy. The feeling followed them as they approached a nondescript building situated at the very far edge of the town, unmarked and showing no signs that anyone even occupied it. Dax followed his mysterious guide as they stepped into the shack, wooden floor plates creaking beneath their feet. The room they found themselves stepping into was dark save for the glow of a furnace at the very end. The silhouette of an armored figure was highlighted by the flickering flames, their back turned to the visitors of their humble abode.

“It’s about time you showed up,” a gruff voice greeted them. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost.”

Dax’s mysterious companion said nothing as she shoved Dax Goldam forward, pushing him towards the armored man. The figure turned to face them and Dax saw that he was clad in all-black Mandalorian armor, his visor barely distinguishable from the rest of his helmet.

“So, you’re the boy who wants to kill Kadar then,” the Mandalorian muttered. “Must admit, I wasn’t expecting someone looking so… rugged.”

Dax snorted. “And who would you be?”

“My name is Argus of Clan Ordo. And it may surprise you to know that we have more in common than you would believe.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like you, I also want Kadar dead. He was responsible for the deaths of my daughter and grandson.” Argus Ordo tilted his head to one side. “I understand that he robbed you of someone close as well, yes?”

Dax stiffened, his lips forming a tight, thin line. “Yeah,” he managed to say. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Then we have a common enemy. And with a common enemy, we will only benefit each other by working together.”

Argus Ordo walked towards Dax and put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. Dax fought every urge to shrug the hand away.

“If you want to kill a Mandalorian, you have to fight like a Mandalorian,” Argus said in a low tone. “I will teach you how to fight like a Mandalorian. Only then will you be able to kill Kadar.”

Dax eyed the Mandalorian warily. “Are you sure it will be enough?”

“It will be,” Argus Ordo said darkly. “Or nothing will.” 

Naboo

“While I am grateful that you are here, Princess Organa, this is cutting things rather close. The wedding is in an hour.”

“I apologize for our tardiness, Pooja,” Leia Organa Solo replied, walking alongside her cousin through the Temple of Shiraya’s courtyard. “And remember, it’s just Leia. We are family, after all.”

Even after all this time, Pooja Naberrie was still coming to terms with that fact. While she and Leia had both been good friends during their times as representatives of their respective homeworlds in the Imperial Senate, it was not until much later that Pooja learned that Leia was not only the daughter of Darth Vader but that of Queen Amidala, who had been Pooja’s aunt. To this day, she still struggled to wrap her mind around this fact, though it had done nothing to tar the relationship she already had with the Princess of Alderaan. If anything, it had only made their connection stronger.

“I must admit,” Pooja said, “I was not expecting you to accept the invitation. I figured you would be too… busy with other things.”

“I have been busy,” Leia said. “But I can always make time for family.”

“That’s another thing; I don’t believe you’ve ever been close to Darius, have you? I know Ryoo had him over when you visited once, but he couldn’t have been older than five. I don’t believe he’s even met your children, has he?”

“No,” Leia admitted. “But I still feel an obligation to give your aunt’s branch of the family some form of representation.”

“And I thank you for that, Leia.” Pooja paused for a moment before lowering her voice to a more conspiratorial tone. “Of course, that’s not the only reason you’re here, is it?”

“No. But we can talk more after the wedding.”

“Indeed. Speaking of which, we should probably get back inside. Queen Reneme is rather eager to meet you, from what I’ve heard.”

Leia put on a smile. “Then let us not keep her waiting.”

*  *  *

“This is a bad idea,” Sare Valrisa muttered under her breath.

“You have a better one?” Kyla Kishanti murmured back. “Because I’m all ears.”

The Renegades were carefully making their way towards the Temple of Shiraya, where the wedding of Darius Naberrie and Valera Teramo would be taking place. Humans dressed in the bright colorful clothing of Naboo and drab grays of Serenno were beginning to file into the palace, with several maroon-clad security officers standing guard all around the grounds. Valrisa was positive that she and the other Renegades stood out like a sore thumb and would likely be kicked out on first sight. That was unless Kyla’s hastily made plan worked, which Valrisa severely doubted.

Sure enough, as soon as the Renegades reached the front steps, a burly Naboo officer stormed over to them, a grave expression on his face.

“I’m gonna need to see some identification,” he grunted.

Valrisa presented him with an identification card. “Here you go,” she said simply.

The officer snatched it from her and perused it with his narrowed eyes. “Sare Valrisa? As in House Valrisa?”

Valrisa nodded. “And I am Lady Teramo’s half-sister. Our mother is the late Sareth Valrisa.”

The officer grunted as he handed the card back to her. “You’re not on the invitation list though. So you’ll have to leave.”

“But I’m her sister.”

“Doesn’t matter. If you’re not on the list, then you have to leave.”

As Valrisa opened her mouth to object, Bedo let out a sudden squeal.

“Oh my stars, is that who I think it is?”

Everyone—including the guard—stopped and turned to see an entourage of Gungans approaching the Temple of Shiraya. Leading them was an elderly Otolla Gungan, dressed in ceremonial brown robes and green shoulder pads, while armored Gungan warriors flanked him on either side. The elder Gungan greeted those who gawked at him with a bright smile and a friendly wave.

“Oh my stars, it’s him!” Bedo whispered excitedly, bringing his pudgy blue hands to his face. “It’s Jar Jar Binks!”

“Who?” Wiskin asked, scratching his head.

“He was a general who served in the Invasion of Naboo! He’s a war hero!”

“Oh,” Wiskin muttered. “Of course.”

“Boss Binks,” the officer said as the Gungan and his entourage reached them. “This is, uh, an unexpected visit.”

Boss Binks nodded sagely. “Yes, meesa was invited by Queen Reneme herself. Meesa apologize for de inconvenience.”

“Oh, not at all. I mean, it’s not an inconvenience, sir. Boss Binks. Your majesty.”

Boss Binks chuckled as he patted the officer on the shoulder. “Yousa funny. Take care.”

“Wait!” Bedo jumped out in front of the Gungan leader, a move which cause the officer and several other nearby guards to put their hands on their blasters. “Boss Binks, I am a huge fan of yours! I’ve read up on all of your feats and accomplishments! I was wondering if I could have a chance to interview you? After the ceremony, of course.”

“Now just wait a minute,” the officer growled, putting his hand on the Ortolan’s shoulder. “If you think you’re getting in like that, then—”

Boss Binks hummed to himself as he tugged at the barbels hanging from his upper lip. “Meesa have no problem with that!” he said. “Yousa can join meesa for the ceremony, if yousa would like.”

“Great!” Bedo said. “Can my friends join you as well?”

“Meesa don’t see why not.”

Both the officer as well as Boss Binks’ bodyguards gave the elder Gungan surprised looks. “Are… are yousa sure about this, Boss Binks?” asked one of the warriors.

Binks nodded as he raised a placating hand. “Meesa certain. Come. Wesa must find our seats!”

Jaw hanging open in shock, the officer slowly stepped away and allowed Bedo and the other Renegades to join Boss Binks and his entourage as they headed into the Temple of Shiraya.

Nudging Bedo with her elbow, Valrisa whispered, “Hey, that was some pretty clever thinking.”

Bedo chuckled uneasily. “I’ll be honest… I wasn’t really thinking at all.”

*  *  *

“Is it done?”

“Yes. Leinad Tagge has been taken care of.”

“Good.” Lady Valera Teramo adjusted her earrings as she studied her reflection in the full-length mirror. “And what of the other five?”

“Well, Senator Valrisa is already accounted for on Coruscant. Lady Praji has also been sighted in the Core Worlds, advocating for full control of the Alliance’s financial sector. The twins of House Mecetti are presumably still operating in the Tapani sector, although their present whereabouts are currently unknown.”

“The twins will be the easiest to be rid of,” Valera mused aloud. “The galaxy will hardly miss them. Valrisa and Praji, on the other hand, will cause the most repercussions.”

“Indeed. Shall I instruct our assets to direct their focus on the Mecetti twins?”

“Yes, do that.”

“So it shall be done then.”

With a courteous bow, the protocol droid departed from the room. Less than a minute later, an older woman came barging in, flailing her arms in a theatrical display of excitement.

“Valera! You are supposed to be at the altar in fifteen minutes!” crowed the noblewoman. “Aren’t you ready yet?”

“Yes, Auntie,” Valera replied, admiring herself in the mirror. “I could not be more ready.”

Transformers Regenerated: Scavengers II, Chapter Seven [NON-CANON]

 CHAPTER SEVEN

“Where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

Spacewarp revved lowly from her vocal processor. “I need a better answer than that.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting,” Foldspace snapped.

The two of them, along with Nickel and Swindle, had found themselves in an empty grassy field on some organic planet, surrounded by a forest. It was nighttime wherever they were, with the moon shining bright above them. There was no sign of Krok or the rest of Swindle’s crew, nor was there any of Gigawatt and the Transwarp Blaster.

“I think this is Earth,” Nickel murmured. “I came here with Tarn and the others when we—”

“Wait,” Swindle said, staring at Nickel with wide purple optics. “You were with the D.J.D?!”

“I was until there wasn’t a D.J.D. to be a part of,” Nickel replied. “Relax, I’m not going to murder you. I was never part of that particular aspect to their operations.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s real reassuring,” Swindle retorted. “Do you have any idea how many times I had to pay off Tarn to get him off my back?”

“Nine hundred and five,” Nickel answered. “And yes,” she added when Swindle gave her a surprised look, “I kept count.”

“Focus, people!” Spacewarp snapped. “We need to find out where Gigawatt and the Transwarp Blaster ended up.”

“What about Krok and the others?”

“Yeah, them too, I suppose.”

“Hang on, I’ve got something,” said Foldspace. “I’m picking up some spark signatures.”

“Are they Decepticon?” asked Spacewarp.

“No idea. They’re definitely Cybertronian though, not Mini-Cons.”

“In any case, we might as well investigate.” Spacewarp transformed into her space shuttle mode, allowing Nickel and Swindle to climb on top. “Whether it is them or not, let’s just hope that they don’t give us any trouble.”

With that, Spacewarp kicked on her thrusters and blasted off into the night, heading towards whatever awaited them.

The Savage Land

Fulcrum wasn’t sure whose side he was supposed to be on. He certainly wasn’t on the side of these mutant humans and their robot friend, but then he also wasn’t keen on siding with the large metal warrior they were fighting. Despite being outnumbered—and “outsized” by Ultimate X-Spanse in particular—Death’s Head was holding up against the X-Men as he deflected their eye beams and dodged their clawed swipes. The only thing that seemed to be stopping him from outright massacring them with his ax and mace was Jean Grey, who appeared to be holding the metal warrior back with her mind powers. Fulcrum wasn’t going to even try to understand how humans could have mind powers….

For his part, JP-93 was also largely staying out of the fight, opting instead to keep a watch over Fulcrum and the still-comatose Krok, Misfire, and Spinister. However, when Death’s Head had finally broke free from Jean Grey’s control and had been about to cleave Cyclops in two, JP-93 drew his weapon and fired it at the alien warrior. Electrical whips shot out and wrapped around Death’s Head, who cried out as his body seized up. This gave Cyclops the opportunity to fire a blast from his visor, though it inflicted little damage on Death’s Head.

Breaking free from his confinements, Death’s Head switched his attention to JP-93 and lunged at the Autobot. Before he could get close however, Ultimate X-Spanse grabbed him from behind and hurled him back into a tree. The impact was strong enough to split the tree in half, sending wooden shrapnel flying everywhere.

“I don’t know who you are,” X-Spanse said, brandishing his energy claws as he stormed towards the fallen bounty hunter. “But you are not leaving this island alive!”

“Look,” Death’s Head muttered as he got back up, brushing himself off. “My business isn’t with you, yes? I just want the Grey girl.”

“What do you even want with her, bub?” Wolverine growled, coming to stand beside X-Spanse along with Cyclops.

“Not for you to know,” Death’s Head retorted. “Just doing my job, yes? Let me do my job and no one else needs to be—”

“Wait.” Jean Grey suddenly stepped forward, standing between Death’s Head and the others. “Can’t you tell me?”

Death’s Head blinked at her. “Pardon?”

“If I’m your target, then surely I should have the right to know what you want me for.”

Death’s Head stared at her blankly for a moment before narrowing his eyes. “If you’re the one I’m after, then you already know.”

“And if I’m not?” Jean Grey asked.

“You’ll be dead by then either way, so I don’t think it matters much, yes?”

“I’ve heard enough!” Wolverine roared as he charged towards Death’s Head. The mechanical warrior raised his shield as the claw-baring mutant slashed at him, before swinging his mace and sending the X-Man flying into a tree.

“Logan!” Jean Grey cried as she reached out with her hands and seized Death’s Head with an invisible force. The bounty hunter let out a yell as he was launched into the air and thrown in the direction of the sea. His cries faded into the distance as he plummeted towards the ocean, culminating with a faint splash.

“Okay,” Fulcrum said. “I am officially both disgusted and terrified by you humans.”

No one seemed to be listening to him as Jean Grey and the other X-Men rushed over to check on Wolverine, although X-Spanse stayed behind with JP-93 to keep watch over Fulcrum and the other Scavengers.

“This is turning out to be a very strange day,” X-Spanse muttered.

“You’re telling me?” JP-93 replied. “I don’t see how it can get any stranger.”

As if the universe wanted to make a point, a silver car burst out of the forest and skidded to a halt in front of them, changing shape to take the form of yet another Autobot.

“Finally! About time I found you. Let’s hurry up and find the others so we can….” The silver bot trailed off as he looked at Ultimate X-Spanse and JP-93, apparently noticing them for the first time. His spectacled optics went wide as he took a step back, gawking in horror.

“Oh no. I’m too late. It’s already begun!”

“What?” JP-93 asked. “What’s already begun?”

“The Crossover! It’s happening as we speak!” The Autobot clutched his head. “Any minute now, we’re all going to—!”

Before he could finish, a bright light erupted from the ocean and began to envelop the island and everything on it. All Fulcrum could do was shield his optics as the light consumed them all.

*  *  *

“He’s gone now. You can stop playing dead.”

The mutilated human corpse that Death’s Head had left behind started to shift and morph, slowly regenerating itself back into a comprehensible form. “Did I do good?”

“Good enough,” the woman standing next to him said. “We’ll have to move quickly though; when that bounty hunter comes back—and he will—we won’t be so lucky next time.”

“Do we have to change our identities again?”

“No.” The woman looked at a watch on her wrist. “We’re due in Axiom Nexus. The Crossover is about to begin, if it hasn’t already.”

“Are we all set then? Do we have everything that we need?”

“Yes.” The woman’s face split open and peeled back, revealing the eyeless visage of a Dire Wraith. “They won’t know what hit them,” Dakosan said. “And when they do… it will be too late to stop us!”

"SCAVENGERS II" WILL CONTINUE IN 2022

Transformers Regenerated: Scavengers II, Chapter Six [NON-CANON]

 CHAPTER SIX

Cybertron, long ago

“Another long night ahead of us, eh?”

Three bots were gathered around a small fire, keeping their gears and joints warm as another cold night fell over Cybertron. While it was far from an ideal life, it was one that the three of them had become accustomed to in recent times. Besides, it was far better than the other alternatives that awaited them.

Sitting down on a pile of scrap, Weirdwolf dug out a can of oil from his hidden stash. “In need of fuel, anyone?”

“Sure.” Skullcruncher held out his hand as the yellow wolf-bot tossed the can over to him. As he hooked up the can to his fuel tank, Skullcruncher looked over to their third member. “You want any, Thundersaur?”

“No,” the large saurian bot said. “I’m good.”

“You sure? You’re bigger than both of us, so I’d figure—”

“I’m fine, Skullcruncher. You and Weirdwolf need it more than I do.”

Weirdwolf snorted. “Too nice you are, Thundersaur. Need to be more vicious sometimes you must be.”

Thundersaur shook his head. “You guys are my friends. I don’t need to be vicious to you.”

“Yeah, but someday you’re gonna run into someone who isn’t as nice as you,” said Skullcruncher. “Then you’ll have to toughen up. That’s how you survive.”

“I know all about surviving,” Thundersaur snapped. “You don’t need to lecture me about—”

“H-hello?”

The three of them looked in the direction that the small, weak voice was coming from. Stepping from out of the shadows was a bot in black and green armor plating with purple accents. He stared at the trio with imploring eyes, looking lost and afraid. 

“Please,” he said. “Don’t hurt me. I’m just… trying to get away from….”

“Easy there,” Thundersaur said, slowly walking over to the lost bot. “You are among friends here. What is your name?”

“I don’t… my name is not….” The bot sighed, looking down ashamedly. “My name is Kick-Foot. It’s a stupid name….”

“All the best names are taken,” Thundersaur said with a smile. “Would you care to join us? There’s plenty of fuel to go around.”

“Uh, are you sure about this, Thunders?” asked Skullcruncher. “I mean, we don’t know who this bot is or where he came from. For all we know, he could be a Functionist spy.”

“If we shun others based on appearances, we would be no better than the Functionists.” Thundersaur smiled at the newcomer as he extended a hand. “Welcome to the Foragers, Kick-Foot. It’s good to have you with us.”

Earth, now

“Krok. Hey, Krok. Krok. Yo, Krok.”

Krok groaned as his systems booted back online, finding himself laying on his back and staring up at a bright blue sky, partially obscured by trees. The sun glowed brightly and he had to readjust his optics so that they didn’t—

“Try kicking him.”

A large foot roughly collided into his head and Krok shot up, rubbing his cranium furiously. He turned around to look at his assailant, ready to let loose with a series of curses and insults… only to stop when he saw a purple and blue bot staring back down at him.

“Spin… Spinister?”

“Who’s Spin-Spinister?” asked Spinister.

Krok then turned back around to see Misfire standing on his other side. He quickly scrambled onto his feet and backed away, staring at the pair in complete awe.

“You’re… you’re alive?!”

“Pretty sure we are,” Misfire replied. “Unless this is the Afterspark, which… would explain a lot, actually.”

Krok closed his eyes and shook his head. “I… I must be dreaming. Where’s Crankcase and Fulcrum?”

“Haven’t seen them. Only bots we’ve seen so far besides you is some dino-bot and this green guy.”

“What green guy?”

“The one you landed on.”

Krok opened his optics to see a green and black bot lying flat on the ground in the spot where he had awakened in. The green bot then groaned as he started to pull himself up, his face caked in dirt.

“This is… way out of my league,” he muttered.

“Who are you?” Krok asked, reaching for his blaster.

“My designation is JP-93. I’m a special agent for the Autobot Secret Service. That is all you need to know.”

“What are you doing here on Earth?”

“Did you not just hear me?” JP-93 snapped. “I’m not telling you anything! All three of you are under arrest in accordance to the Tyrest Accord!”

Krok continued to stare nonplussed at the Autobot while Misfire simply shrugged.

“Don’t bother reasoning with him. He’s clearly out of the loop.”

“Aren’t we all,” Krok muttered. “What about that dino-bot you mentioned?”

“We left her on the beach,” said Misfire. “No idea who she is or why she’s here, but—”

“Both of you, shut up!” JP-93 said. “Once Ultra Magnus arrives, the three of you are going straight to Garrus-9. If you try to put up a fight, you will pay the consequences.”

“Wait,” Krok said, looking back at him. “Did you say Ultra Magnus? I thought he died.”

“Yeah,” Misfire said. “And Garrus-9 was shut down after it was taken over by Overlord and his forces.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” JP-93 growled. “Ultra Magnus is alive and well and Garrus-9 is still under Autobot control. You ‘Cons would be out of your mind to even think of trying to take over the Last Resort.”

“Well, no one ever said Overlord was always in his right mind,” Misfire remarked.

Krok continued to stare at the Autobot agent, not wanting to let this matter drop. “How long have you been here?”

JP-93 glared at him. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“I don’t think you even have anything to tell us. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter and we wouldn’t care. Ultra Magnus is dead and won’t be coming by anytime soon.”

The Autobot agent took a few steps back as he leveled a weapon at Krok. “I suggest you stop talking. I’m not afraid to put you and your friends down.”

Before Krok could retort, the roar of a jet’s engine broke through the air. The three Decepticons and single Autobot all looked up to see a blue jet flying above them high in the sky. A large cylindrical object was attached to its underside; an object that looked awfully familiar as Krok enhanced his optical sensors to get a clearer look at it.

“Say… isn’t that—”

He was cut off as JP-93 fired his weapon, hitting him with an electrical current that quickly spread to Misfire and Spinister in a chain reaction. The three of them fell to the ground and the last thing Krok saw before the darkness took him was the large jet starting to change shape….

*  *  *

Fulcrum screamed as he fell from several hundred feet in the air. Apparently, Ultimate X-Spanse had thought it would have been a good idea to drop him without warning so that he could transform. The X-Men had already launched out in some sort of mini-vehicle and paid no heed to the K-Con as he descended towards the ground. A part of him wished his bomb mechanism still worked so that he could blow this island and everyone around it to smithereens, just out of pure spite.

Instead, he landed roughly and unceremoniously on the ground, so hard that he thought he had broken his transformation cog as it took him more than a couple of minutes. Once he was finally in robot mode, he found himself sitting between Ultimate X-Spanse and the X-Men, and a strange green Autobot that Fulcrum had never seen before. Laying nearby were Krok, Misfire, and Spinister; all three were in a state of stasis lock. Fulcrum would have to worry about them later, as the green bot currently had a gun pointed at him, apparently not at all concerned with X-Spanse and his mutant friends.

“More Decepticons,” the Autobot muttered. “Great. I don’t know where you guys keep coming from or what you even want, but—”

“This Decepticon is our captive,” said Ultimate X-Spanse. “We don’t mean you any harm… unless you give us a reason to.”

The green Autobot shifted his gaze to the X-Men but kept his weapon trained on Fulcrum. “Identify yourselves and state your business.”

“My name is Expanse, though I now go by the name Ultimate X-Spanse these days. We’ve come here to investigate strange occurrences in this location.”

“’Strange’ doesn’t even begin to describe it,” said the green Autobot. “You can call me JP-93, agent of the Autobot Secret Service.”

“What does the ‘JP’ stand for?” asked Jubilee.

JP-93 glared at her. “That is classified information.”

“Great,” grunted Logan—who also went by the codename “Wolverine,” from what Fulcrum had heard. “More of these mysterious robots. This day is just full of them.”

“Maybe there’s a connection,” suggested Beast. “Perhaps something here in the Savage Land is what’s dispensing them here.”

“How did you come by this place?” Ultimate X-Spanse asked JP-93.

The Autobot agent seemed to hesitate before answering. “I… I just woke up here. No idea how long I was offline. Everything prior to that is a blur. I’ve been trying to hail High Command but haven’t gotten a response.”

Fulcrum looked over at X-Spanse. “Ask him what cycle it is.”

JP-93 answered the question before X-Spanse could ask it. “The last date I have logged in is Cycle 9679. However, my chronometer is all scrambled, so I have no idea how much time has passed.”

“Ha! You too, huh?” Fulcrum slowly got to his feet, which caused both Autobots to twitch reflexively. “So something happened in 9679 that brought you to this time and place. Now, I have no idea how Terran calendars work; if I did, I would be able to tell you what cycle corresponds to what year we're currently in, and I would be able to figure out how much time has passed for you guys.”

“You know something that we don’t, Decepticon?” JP-93 asked snidely.

“All I know is that you guys are from a point in history where the war was still at its height. I’m from a point of time where the war has already ended and the two factions are at peace, such as it is. I have no idea what that means for the current time that we are all in, but that’s where we’re at.”

“You guys are time travelers then,” said Jean Grey.

“Except I do not believe they are all from the same time,” said Beast. “In fact, they might even be from separate realities!”

“Spare us the details, bub,” growled Wolverine. “Just tell us how we’re gonna get them back to where they came from.”

Before Beast could answer his fellow X-Men, there was a bright flash of light and all heads turned to see a large metallic figure materialize before them. Too large to be a human and too short to be a Cybertronian, the metal warrior was unlike any Fulcrum had seen before. Red eyes glowed from a fanged silver visage and large hands tightly gripped a mace and axe, while a golden shield adorned one of his arms. As the X-Men and their Autobot allies brandished their weapons, steam puffed out of Death’s Head’s grill-like mouth as he raised his own.

“Now then… which one of you is Jean Grey?”

Transformers Regenerated: Scavengers II, Chapter Five [NON-CANON]

 CHAPTER FIVE

Earth

“Carl… Carlos… Carlton… Casper… Charles… gah, I knew I should have gone in a different order.” Death’s Head lowered his datapad to look down at the human male at his feet. “What was your name, again?”

The man offered no response, most likely because he was already dead. Realizing this, Death’s Head shifted his attention to the human woman that had been with the man he had just killed, who was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“His name was Christopher, wasn’t it? Sorry, not Christopher. Christian? Crispin? …Cristiano?”

The woman did not answer him, continuing to gawk at him in frozen terror.

“And it’s ‘Grey’ with an ‘e,’ yes? Not ‘Gray’ with an ‘a?’ Because I made that mistake once and it… well, it ended up like this. So I suppose it doesn’t make much of a difference, no?”

Knowing that he was not going to get any sort of answer, Death’s Head turned away from the woman and looked back at his datapad. He scrolled through the list of names for what had to have been the hundredth time, looking for any that stood out to him. He had lost track of the time it had taken him so far to do this blasted job, and he was nowhere near halfway through the list. Sooner or later, he would have to ask Lord Gyconi for better information; this list was simply not doing it.

As the many, many names containing the word “Grey” zipped by—Greyback, Greyfur, Greyson—the scrolling list stopped on one “Jean Grey.” For some reason, this name gave Death’s Head pause; he felt as if he should know that name, even though he had never encountered a “Jean Grey” in his life. Still, he would have to get to them eventually. Might as well start with them now.

Putting away the list, Death’s Head activated his wrist device once more and everything around him warped away in a flash of light.

Sigma VII

“So… this thing we’re looking for… what exactly is it supposed to look like?”

Krok and the remaining Scavengers, along with Swindle’s crew and Gigawatt, were in an abandoned Decepticon compound on Sigma VII. Nearly 140 years ago, it had been the site of multiple experiments involving transwarp technology, which was ultimately shut down due to the lack of progress. Although Krok had not been involved in the project, he had known a few ‘Cons who were and thus had learned all the juicy details that he otherwise would not have been privy to. And yet, none of them had said anything about a Transwarp Blaster….

“Zapmaster and the others gave me a description,” said Nickel, poking her head into crevices that the larger Decepticons were unable to fit through. “The Transwarp Blaster is made up of three Mini-Cons: Boom Tube, Jump Drive, and Starburst. They’re supposed to be red, blue, and green, respectively.”

“Red, blue, and green. Got it.” Gutcruncher shoved aside a deactivated generator and it fell to the ground with a loud crash. “Don’t worry,” he said to the others. “That wasn’t red, blue, or green.”

“We don’t need to waste our time doing this,” Spacewarp muttered. “Foldspace can scan for Mini-Con spark signatures and find them in no time.”

“Huh?” said a small rover attached to Spacewarp’s arm. “Did someone say my name?”

Spacewarp glared at her companion. “Have you been scanning for spark signatures?”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to!”

“Oh, for Primus’ sake….”

While the two of them bickered, Krok and the others continued their physical search for the three Mini-Cons. As he looked behind a computer station, Krok heard footsteps approach him and looked over to see Gutcruncher stepping up to him.

“Hey,” the green and orange Decepticon said to him. “It’s Krok, right?”

“Yes?” Krok answered tentatively.

“I don’t know if you remember me. From Hydrus Four.”

“I try not to think about Hydrus Four,” Krok muttered, returning to his search.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you,” said Gutcruncher. “It was an embarrassment for both sides, I think.”

“If there is a point to this conversation, please get to it because I have absolutely no interest in speaking to you.”

“Hey, I was just trying to make small talk!” Gutcruncher retorted. “Decepticon camaraderie and all that. Besides, if you hang out with those other losers, then maybe—”

Krok whirled on him and jabbed a finger into his chestplate. “Listen here,” he growled. “The only thing you and I have in common is a purple badge and a single shared experience. We are not on the same level and I have absolutely no desire to associate with you outside of this job.”

“Okay, okay!” Gutcruncher raised his hands and backed away from him. “Sheesh, what crawled up your tailpipe and died?”

While Gutcruncher stalked off, Krok returned to the search, though he found difficulty in focusing on it. All he could think about was what he was going to do after all this was done; without Misfire and the others, he no longer had a crew, and he strongly doubted that Spacewarp would want him to stick around any longer now that he could no longer provide her with said crew. He suppose he could ask Swindle if there was an opening for him, but he knew that making any sort of deal with that con artist would not end well for him.

Honestly, the worst part about it all was that he felt that he had failed the bot for whom he had formed the Scavengers in the first place. It was because of Thundersaur’s dying wish that Krok and Spinister had rescued Misfire—then known as Flyhigh—and inadvertently formed a crew of wayward Decepticons, with an unwilling Crankcase and an eager Flywheels joining them. Now that the other four, as well as Fulcrum, were all dead, Krok could not help but feel that it had been all for naught. He didn’t even want to think about what Thundersaur would say to him if he were to see him now….

“Guys… I think I found something.”

Krok was snapped out of his thoughts as he and the others looked over to Trickdiamond, just as she pulled out a multicolored device from out of a crevice.

“That’s it!” exclaimed Nickel. “That’s exactly what they described!”

“Well, that was easy,” muttered Headlock. “So now what?”

Gigawatt said nothing as he walked over to Trickdiamond, extending his arms for the Transwarp Blaster. Trickdiamond gave him a wary look before handing the Mini-Con weapon over to him.

“How exactly does this thing work?” she asked. “I mean, I know the name ‘Transwarp Blaster’ should make it obvious, but….”

“I’m going to fire it at you all so we can end up in Axiom Nexus,” Gigawatt said bluntly.

“What?!” Gutcruncher exclaimed. “I didn’t agree to getting shot at!”

“Don’t worry, it’s non-lethal. You won’t feel a—”

“Like scrap I will!” Gutcruncher drew his gun and pointed it at Gigawatt. “I knew we should have slagged you when we had the chance! You’re an Autobot, aren’t you? You’re just trying to kill us!”

“I swear I’m not!” Gigawatt protested. “Please, don’t shoot! If you damage the Transwarp Blaster, it might—”

“I’ve heard enough!” Before anyone could stop him, Gutcruncher fired his blaster repeatedly at Gigawatt. His shots struck both the Transwarp Blaster as well as Gigawatt and a blast of blue and white energy burst from both of them, consuming the Decepticons in a blinding light.

Earth

Fulcrum probably should have seen this coming. In a post-war world of (albeit fragile) peace, it was easy to forget that there was a time where Autobots and Decepticons were always trying to kill one another. Sure, they weren’t exactly the best of pals now, but at least it was feasibly possible to put a ‘Bot and a ‘Con in a room together without one or both of them ending up as a scrapheap on the floor.

Whoever this Ultimate X-Spanse fellow was, he clearly was not familiar with such a world as he currently had Fulcrum pinned to the floor, energy claws pointed at the K-Con’s neck. Colored in the same blue and yellow as the other X-Men or whatever they were called, X-Spanse was unlike any Cybertronian Fulcrum had seen before. On the bot’s chest was a yellow chestplate shaped like the letter “X” with a red glowing light in its center while his optics were covered with a yellow band and red visor. Were it not for how he was currently reacting to Fulcrum’s presence, Fulcrum would have thought this bot was a Decepticon. Clearly that was not the case….

“State your business, Decepticon, before I obliterate you and scatter your atoms!” Ultimate X-Spanse growled.

“I made a wrong turn,” Fulcrum replied, keeping his eyes on the claws at his neck. “If you let me go, I will gladly leave and find my way back home.”

“As if I’m going to believe that,” X-Spanse growled, his red visor glowing brighter. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to keep your life.”

“Charming. Y’know, I’d expect this from one of my fellow Decepticons. Not an Autobot like you.”

“I’m not an Autobot. Not anymore. I left that life behind when I—”

“Yeah, I really don’t care. Look, I really don’t want any trouble. If you could just let me go, I will leave and you’ll never have to worry about me again.”

“I don’t buy it,” grunted Logan, standing by with the other X-Men. “I’m starting to think Magneto sent him after us.”

“He hasn’t done anything yet, though,” said Jean Grey. “You would think that if he was here to kill us, he would have done so by now.”

“That’s exactly what a fella like Magneto would want us to think. Lure us into a false sense of security and then bam! Just like that.”

“Okay,” Fulcrum said. “Can I just say that I have no idea who or what a Magneto is? Would you even believe me if I said that?”

“What do you think, bub?” Logan retorted.

“Where are you from then?” asked Cyclops. “How did you get here?”

“I don’t know!” Fulcrum exclaimed. “I was with my… with my friends on Hedonia when some bot came up to us about something called the Crossover. Then he exploded and… and now I’m here.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Ultimate X-Spanse snapped. “That’s it; I’ve heard enough of your lies. Prepare to—”

“Wait!” Beast jumped away from the others, his arms raised high. “Let us not be so hasty, my large metal friend! Perhaps there is some merit of truth to his story.”

“He’s a Decepticon, Beast,” X-Spanse muttered. “Decepticons never tell the truth.”

“What exactly is a Decepticon?” asked Jean Grey. “You haven’t really explained to us what you robots are about.”

Fulcrum stared at X-Spanse incredulously. “You mean you haven’t even told these guys? I would have thought that would be something you’d want to clarify right away—”

“Silence!” X-Spanse snapped. He paused for a moment before letting out a sigh. “You do raise a fair point,” he said to the X-Men. “When you first met me, I was admittedly… evasive to your questions about my origins.”

“You told us you were from a planet called Cybertron,” said Jubilee. “That’s about it.”

Fulcrum wasn’t sure if it was normal for humans to talk in expository dialog, but he was appreciative of it at the moment. Thankfully, Ultimate X-Spanse seemed to be in a similar mood as he nodded while pulling away from Fulcrum, though he still kept his glowing visor trained on the K-Con.

“Yes, I am from Cybertron. I was part of a faction of my kind known as the Autobots, who fought against the evil forces of the Decepticons.” He gestured to Fulcrum. “If the emblem on his body is anything to go by, this bot right here is a Decepticon.”

“But the war is over!” Fulcrum said. “There’s no need to destroy me or my kind anymore!”

Ultimate X-Spanse scowled at him. “What are you talking about? The war isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is! It has been for over a year now! Where have you been for all this….” Fulcrum trailed off as a question suddenly struck his mind. “Wait,” he murmured. “What year is it?”

Ultimate X-Spanse frowned. “What year? You mean the Earth year?”

“No, no. The Cybertronian year. What’s the current cycle?”

The X-Bot’s frown deepened. “The cycle? Er… surely you would know that.”

Fulcrum smirked. “Humor me.”

“I… I… no.” X-Spanse shook his head. “No, this is some sort of trick, isn’t it?”

“How is it a trick? I’m just asking a simple question. What’s the current cycle?”

“I….” X-Spanse clenched his fists as he glared at Fulcrum. “I’ve lost track of the time. My chronometer no longer works properly. Last I remember, it was Cycle 9679.”

“9679?” Fulcrum frowned. “But that’s… that was over 130 years ago.”

“Like I said, I’ve lost track of the time. Now then….” X-Spanse raised his clawed hand again. “Are you done playing with my mind or—”

“Professor!”

Before Ultimate X-Spanse could finish his statement, a bunch of other humans in garish getups barged into the room. Leading them was a dark-skinned woman with white hair and an equally white uniform, who approached Professor Xavier with a serious look.

“We’ve detected a strange occurrence in the Antarctic region. We believe it may be originating from the Savage Land.”

“The Savage Land?” echoed Professor Xavier. “Then we should better investigate. Ultimate X-Spanse, can you take Scott and his team there?”

“What about the Decepticon?” Ultimate X-Spanse asked, gesturing at Fulcrum.

“You can take him with you if you prefer. Can he fly like yourself?”

X-Spanse looked at Fulcrum. “Can you?”

“Uh….” Fulcrum cleared his vocal processor. “Not really. Although my alternate mode is easily transportable.”

“Good. Let’s see it then.”

Here we go, Fulcrum thought as he transformed, his armor plating extending and folding around him. Within minutes, X-Spanse and the X-Men were staring at rusted bomb laying where Fulcrum had once been.

“Wow,” muttered Logan. “Never thought I’d feel sorry for a robot.”

Transformers Regenerated: Scavengers II, Chapter Four [NON-CANON]

 CHAPTER FOUR

The Alchemor, en route to Sigma VII

“I’m not sure if we ever thanked you for the rescue.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” said Nickel. “We’re just doing what’s right.”

She and the Mini-Con racers that had been rescued from Swindle’s captivity were gathered in one of the cell blocks on the former prison ship Alchemor. Ever since falling into the possession of the Scavengers, it had since been repurposed into one of many rec rooms aboard the ship, serving as a hangout space for any stragglers that the Scavengers picked up during their journeys. This made it a perfect open space for the many, many Mini-Cons they rescued to stay until they found themselves a new home.

“You’re from Micron, aren’t you?” asked Zapmaster as he poured energon into his fuel port. “How did you escape from the Black Block Consortia?”

“I hid in Prion’s eye socket when the Consortia attacked and abducted everyone else,” Nickel replied. “I stayed there even after they had left and didn’t come out until… someone found me and gave me a new home.”

“Was it these Decepticons who found you?” Grid asked.

“Um….” Nickel bit her lip. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’re all in our debt,” said Zapmaster. “Have you guys managed to rescue any other Mini-Cons?”

“Yeah, Spacewarp rescued a whole bunch from Tebris Seven a few months ago. She took them to Cybertron so they could decide what to do with their lives; I’m sure once we’re done at Sigma Seven, we’ll stop by there next.”

“Sounds good,” said a yellow and black Mini-Con with a similar build as Grid and Zapmaster. “Though I think I’d rather go to Velocitron. From what I hear, the folks there are a lot more my style.”

Grid rolled his optics. “Yeah, right, Mirage. We both know that you just wanna see Backtrack again.”

“And Spiral and Oval! I loved those guys, too!”

Nickel frowned in confusion. “Wait, did you just call him ‘Mirage?’” she asked Grid. “Isn’t that the name of an Autobot?”

Mirage snorted. “Oh boy, this again….”

“We generally don’t concern ourselves over sharing names with Cybertronians,” Zapmaster explained. “They sure never cared about our affairs, so why should we about theirs?”

“That’s fair enough, I suppose,” Nickel admitted. “So long as you don’t share names with anyone else on the ship, we should all be fine.”

“Where is it we’re headed, again?” Grid asked. “Sigma Seven, you said?”

“Yeah. Apparently there’s some special device there that we need to get. Something called the Transwarp Blaster.”

The room suddenly went silent and every Mini-Con present stopped what they were doing to look at Nickel. She glanced awkwardly from one gawking face to the other before asking, “What?”

“Did you just say the Transwarp Blaster?” asked a blue and orange sports car Mini-Con.

“Yeah?” Nickel said nervously. “Why?”

“You don’t even know what it is, do you?”

“I mean, going by its name, I can wager a guess. Such as that it is a blaster powered by… transwarp stuff.”

“You’re pretty much bang on the money,” said Zapmaster. “But there’s something else about it that you and your Decepticon friends should probably know.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“It’s not just a weapon. It’s a living being.” Zapmaster sealed up his fuel port and set aside his energon cube. “Three of them, to be precise.”

*  *  *

“THE TRANSWARP BLASTER IS MADE OUT OF MINI-CONS?!”

“Not so loud,” Gutcruncher groused, clamping his hands over his audio receptors. “We’re all standing right next to you.”

Spacewarp ignored the green Decepticon as she whirled furiously on Swindle, her optics blazing. “Did you know about this?!”

Swindle held up his hands defensively. “No! I had no idea! Honestly! I swear on my mentor’s spark!”

“Coming from you, that doesn’t really mean much,” Krok muttered. He looked down at Nickel, who had just delivered this tidbit of information to him and the rest of what was now more or less Gigawatt’s crew. “Are you sure they’re being for real?”

“I’m just telling you what the other Mini-Cons told me,” Nickel said. “It would be strange for them to lie about something like that. Especially since it would mean they were all in on it.”

“I can believe it,” Spacewarp growled, still glowering at Swindle. “As cynical it may sound, I’ve seen enough to know how low bots are willing to go.”

“Uh, yeah,” Gutcruncher said uneasily. “Me, too.”

“All right, so let me just get this straight,” Trickdiamond said. “This Transwarp Blaster we’re after is made out of three Mini-Cons. Swindle’s client wants to buy it off him for lots and lots of credits. Which would make it robot trafficking, essentially.”

“It’s not trafficking if I don’t know it’s a living machine!” Swindle protested. “Now that I do know, the deal is off! I’m not—I’m not selling it to him anymore!”

“Then how are we going to get money?” asked Gutcruncher. “I’m not doing this scrap for free!”

“You will all be compensated once all is said and done,” Gigawatt said calmly, facing the Alchemor’s viewport. 

“Oh yeah?” Gutcruncher snapped. “And just how much do you intend to pay us? More than a hundred trillion?”

“I would think that saving the universe from complete and utter collapse would be enough.”

Krok growled in frustration as he pushed past the others and stormed up to Gigawatt. “Look, can you at least explain to us what this ‘Crossover’ is all about? That Flyhigh guy that killed my friends said it was some sort of interdimensional event in a place called Axiom Nexus. Is any of that true?”

Gigawatt hesitated. “To a certain extent.”

“Are there any details he left out that we should know about?”

“Did he mention that it’s an auction?”

“An auction?” Krok scratched his helm. “No, I don’t believe so. What’s it an auction for?”

Gigawatt opened his mouth as if to answer but then stopped himself, seemingly having second thoughts. “Forget it,” he muttered. “I’ve probably said too much already.”

“I bet he’s not telling us ‘cos he hasn’t thought it up yet!” said Gutcruncher. “I’m telling you, guys, this whole thing’s a blasted scam. We should bail out now before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late,” said Trickdiamond. “We’re already nearing the Sigma system, and you can’t get any more remote than the Sigma system. We’ve got nowhere else to turn too.”

Gutcruncher narrowed his optics and his hand drifted towards a blaster holstered on his hip. “Then I guess this calls for a good old fashioned mutiny.”

“Now just wait a minute!” Swindle said, jumping in front of Gutcruncher. “Let’s just wait this out, yeah? I’m curious enough to see what this Gigawatt bot’s got in his arm compartment. Even if it’s a scam, maybe we can all learn a thing or two from him!”

Headlock rubbed his chin as he eyed Gigawatt skeptically. “Y’know, I’ve been meaning to ask… whose side are you on anyway?”

Gigawatt slowly turned to look at him. “Pardon?”

“Are you an Autobot or a Decepticon?”

“Does it matter? The war’s over.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter. So there’s no harm in telling us, right?”

Gigawatt was silent for a pressing moment. Then, he said, “I don’t do sides. I’m just a simple bot trying to make my way through the universe.”

“And trying to save it?” Krok asked with a raised optic ridge.

“That, too.”

“Still reeks of Autobot ideology,” Gutcruncher grunted. “I still say we—”

A beep sounded off at the console and Spacewarp pushed a lever at the ship’s controls, bringing the Alchemor out of hyperspace and into the orbit of a rocky world. “We’re here,” she announced to the others. “Sigma Seven.”

“All right then,” Krok said. “Let’s go get this Transwarp Blaster. And free the Mini-Cons, I guess. Everyone else is free to bail out or do whatever. Just know that if you try to take our ship, we will scrap you. End of story.”

Swindle grinned at him and gave him two thumbs up. “Sounds good to me!”

Gutcruncher exchanged glances with Trickdiamond and Headlock before rolling his optics. “Gah, I’ve got a bad feeling about this….”

Earth, another place and time

“Sorry we’re late, Professor. We had another run in with the Brotherhood.”

“That is quite all right, Scott. So long as you and the others are safe….”

Fulcrum could hear the voices coming from outside the lab that the organics had put him in. The space itself was rather cramped, even for a rather small K-Con like him. The furry blue human—the one called Logan had alternated between calling him Hank and Beast, the latter which seemed the most appropriate—was moving this way and that to look at computer screens, scratching his chin as he glanced from them to Fulcrum. As if he didn’t already feel uncomfortable enough in the presence of these disgusting organics, now he was being gawked at like some sort of lab experiment. Terrific.

While Beast continued to “examine” Fulcrum (or whatever it was he was doing), a group of other humans entered the lab. Leading them was an older squishy with no hair on his head, moving around in some sort of floating transport. Whether the transport was a part of his body or not, Fulcrum could not tell nor did he care. Accompanying the older human were others wearing gaudy blue and yellow outfits, with all sorts of gadgets adorning their bodies. One had a red visor covering their eyes, which Fulcrum supposed was sort of cool; another had red hair sprouting out from a tight headgear, which wasn’t cool; and then there was one who was just wearing civilian clothes and a long yellow jacket while blowing pink bubbles from their mouth, which was just weird.

As the newcomers gawked at Fulcrum, Beast excited hopped over to stand in front of them. “I’m glad you could all make it. Logan and I found this machine just outside X-Mansion grounds. He does not appear to be a Sentinel, from what I can gather. He is far too… intelligent to classify as one.”

“It’s good to know where I rank on your scale,” Fulcrum muttered.

“Maybe he’s a Sentinel who got reprogrammed,” suggested the visor-wearing human.

“And changed his color scheme,” said the bubble-blowing human. “Can’t say it’s an improvement, though.”

“I very much doubt that he’s a Sentinel,” said Beast. “In fact, I don’t believe he is of this Earth at all.”

“You mean he’s like Ultimate X-Spanse?” asked the red-haired woman.

“Possibly. I haven’t had the chance to actually examine X-Spanse more closely… partly because he won’t let me….”

“I’m sorry,” Fulcrum said, “but who exactly are you guys?”

“I am Professor Charles Xavier,” said the bald, transport-bound human. “Founder and headmaster of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You’ve already met Hank McCoy here, better known as Beast.”

“My name is Jean Grey,” said the red-haired woman. She gestured to the visor-wearing man. “This is my partner, Scott, though some call him Cyclops.”

“You can call me Jubilee,” said the bubble-blower.

“Wonderful,” Fulcrum muttered. “I guess you can call me Fulcrum, then. So, who is this… ‘Ultimate X-Spanse’ guy you’re talking about? And what kind of name is ‘Ultimate X-Spanse’ anyway?” 

“Perhaps we should have you ask him yourself,” said Beast. He looked to Professor Xavier. “Shall we take him to the hangar?”

Xavier seemed to consider this for a moment. “Yes, perhaps we should. In any case, it should be more… spacious for him.”

“Huh. Thanks,” Fulcrum said. As disgusting as these organics were, at least they were considerate.

Who knows, he thought to himself. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

*  *  *

“This is really, really bad!” Misfire cried as the Tyrannosaurus rex tossed him up in the air with its mighty maw. As he fell back down, the dinosaur opened its mouth to await his descent only for Spinister to lunge and punch the monster in the face. Misfire then fell straight on top of him and the two Decepticons fell to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Judging by his internal clock, Misfire saw that they had been at this for close to an hour. Each time they got a hand up in their fight with the Tyrannosaurus, it wasted no time in knocking them down a peg or several. It was a constant tug-of-war between them, which was never going to end until one of them burnt out. And so far, the dinosaur was showing no sign of wearing down.

As the two Scavengers struggled to untangle themselves from each other, the Tyrannosaurus stomped towards them, growling lowly from its throat as it glowered at them with its tiny red eyes. After finally managing to untangle himself from Spinister, Misfire got to his feet and raised his fists up at the dinosaur.

“Look, fella, I’ve dealt with beasts like you before! Heck, I was even once friends with one! So don’t think for a moment that I don’t know how to handle myself against you!”

The dinosaur snorted and did something Misfire was not expecting it to do: it spoke. “You haven’t exactly been doing a good job of that.”

Misfire blinked as he stepped back in surprise. The dinosaur then swung its body around and struck him with its massive tail, sending him flying across the beach and towards the shore. As he landed face-first into the mud, he heard what sounded like metal clanging and clicking together, akin to the sound a Cybertronian would make when changing shape. Sure enough, as he pulled himself up and looked over his shoulder, standing where the Tyrannosaurus had been was a large mechanical being in red and brown armor plating. The dinosaur’s head now served as their right hand while its tail was attached to their left arm, unfurled to form a cannon.

“This has been fun,” the dinosaur-bot said, taking aim at Misfire and Spinister with her arm cannon. “But I think playtime is over now.”

Misfire looked to Spinister, who continued to lay where he was. Realizing that there was no escape, Misfire could do nothing but brace himself for the end.

As the tip of the dinosaur-bot’s arm cannon began to glow, something shot out of the forest behind her and struck her in the back. The dinobot let out a pained cry before collapsing face-first onto the ground and going still. Stepping out of the forest was a green and black bot who was covered in scratches and blast marks, walking with a slight limp as he trudged onto the beach while keeping a device in his hand pointed at the two Decepticons.

“I have no idea who you are,” the strange bot said, “but you two are coming with me.”

Well then, Misfire thought to himself. This is going to be a very strange day.